ASSOCIATE WEST COAST EDITOR BLAKE Z. RONG: Driving a convertible on Pacific Coast Highway is a bit of a cliché, but I did it anyway. When life hands you a 2013 Volkswagen Beetle Convertible TDI, then you just kind of gotta take the top down -- and inevitably can't shake the feeling that you've just landed in a Volkswagen commercial. My hair isn't looking wavy enough. Where's the stylist on set?

The top takes barely any time to fold down, which is impressive, considering the canvas is about as long as the runway on the USS John F. Kennedy. Wind buffeting is diminished enough to hear Jimmy Buffet. But conversely, there's a concerto of wind roar from these needlessly large mirrors. Surprise, surprise, there's actually room in the trunk! Volkswagen thoughtfully included a convoluted tonneau cover, the details of whose installation are lost with the ether of time and space. It's supposed to make your car look tidy and hide that odious top, then create hilarious hijinks when you forget that it's still there and go to put the roof up. See, we Mazda Miata drivers have found a different way to deal with a messily folded convertible top. It's called “don't worry about it."

We have heaped praise upon praise toward Volkswagen's TDI/DSG combination, a gloriously fitting pairing that makes Batman and Robin look like Alien vs. Predator. (Wrap your mind around that one.) Again, there's little to dislike here. The Beetle crests out of corners on a wave of torque, aided by a remarkably tight and forgiving chassis which serves to whisk the driver out and away from his own cock-ups. Just leave the engine in third gear, as that's all you need. That's good advice, because that's all the transmission will allow you to use if you even consider the thought of downshifting, imbued with its own controlling sense of morality.

Brakes are firm, well controlled, and while they didn't fade too much during our sprint up the Malibu hills, they could use more stopping power. Steering is weighted on the heavy side, perhaps a little too much. Feels sporty! The rim itself is nice and thin, sufficiently retro feeling under our digits. Turn in is slow. Understeer is the order of the day. The all-season tires howl for mercy at launch, at slow corners, when they get wet. (That's a joke. Ha ha.)

With a bit of effort, Volkswagen could turn this into an actual sports car of sorts...better tires, gripper suspension, and a more forgiving gearbox could make it more entertaining. Alas, right now this is what we get: a car whose sportiness intent is exemplified by the fact that there isn't even a button to turn down the traction control. Wither the GTI?

The hopelessly hipster branding with Fender is brilliant: unlike The Beatles, guitar music is not yet on the way out. Fender makes a pretty good audio system here: sound is crisp and punchy, and unlike most midrange systems (Nissan's Rockford Fosgate, Ford's Sony), it's surprisingly not that heavy on bass. Did I blast dance music from it? You're darn right I blasted dance music from it.

Which brings us neatly to our final point: We've gone this far without discussing the socio-cultural impact of the convertible Beetle. Well let me tell you that this car -- with its bathtub-like proportions, its jewel case-like top opening back to reveal the glittering pearl that is the driver inside -- is not for the shy at heart, like your humble reviewer. But the whole chick car appellation is a brutally tiresome cliché, one that, as manufacturers lean toward mass market appeal in any way possible, grows to become more and more of an anachronism. The Beetle has flaws, but it's still charming: it's a car that knows its limits and lets you explore them to within an inch of its service period. It's as gender-neutral as the name Pat. It's fun. And it would be a shame for any wispy strains of machismo to get in the way of having some shameless fun in a convertible that turns the “chick car” message on its head.

This doesn't apply to the Mini Cooper Roadster. Man, that thing is a Renée Zellweger movie on wheels.

WEST COAST EDITOR MARK VAUGHN: The Beetle Convertible is all about fun. Yes, it has to offer a modicum of propulsion and be able to steer a little and eventually stop, but the main point is the fun. The fact that it has an efficient TDI engine is an almost unnecessary side note. In fact, why spend three grand more to get the turbocharged direct-injection diesel version? EPA numbers only top out at 36 mpg highway, 28 in the city, which is good but maybe not worth the tradeoff in cost and fuel finding to get the turbodiesel. The gasoline turbo with manual transmission gets 23 city and 31 highway, after all. But again, with this car, gas mileage and efficiency take a back seat to sunshine and wind-in-the-scalp glee.

It has to be about fun because its practicality is limited. Space inside, particularly in the back seats, is restrictive. The trunk is among the dinkiest on the market and no comparison to the hatchbacks that ride on this same platform or to hatchbacks from numerous other makers. Likewise the handling is a little disappointing -- it leans too much when pushed hard. But put the top down and it all makes sense again.

During the couple days I had this car I attended a sort of college reunion. The friends who would be there had all gone on to fame and fortune, or at least fortune, and I was certain they'd be driving Porsche Panameras and Bentleys. So I chose the Beetle Convertible to show how much fun I was having on a relatively limited budget. We all rolled up with the top down and it appeared we were all having more fun than anybody in the world. Well, my alumnae friends didn't have Porsches or Bentleys, they all had minivans. The lesson? Do what you like and don't worry about what everybody else is driving.

You'll have a good time in this car. In whatever configuration you choose.